Satyajit Ray's Apur Sansar
Apur Sansar is the most resonating film of Ray’s classic Apu trilogy
Apur Sansar (or The World of Apu) was written, produced, and directed by Satyajit Ray in 1959. It was his fourth feature film as a director, and the final installment in his Apu Trilogy.
In 1955, Ray made waves on the world cinema stage with his debut film Pather Panchali. It depicted the life of a young boy named Apu, living in a poor village in India with his family, with a level of authenticity that had rarely been seen on screen up to that point. The following year, Ray made a sequel named Aparajito, which followed Apu into his adolescent years, as his family moved to the city. Finally, Ray concluded the trilogy three years later with Apur Sansar, showing Apu's trials as a young adult.
While I appreciate the first two films for what they accomplished, I'm not awfully enthusiastic about them. Aparajito, in particular, I found to be flat-out boring. But with Apur Sansar, we not only get to see Apu maturing as a character, but Ray maturing as a storyteller and a filmmaker.
In the film's cold opening, we see Apu dropping out of college, being unable to afford the tuition. He then opens the door to the sounds of strikers protesting on the campus, and walks out into the light.
He spends his days living in a cramped apartment in the slums, dreaming of becoming a published writer. His buddy from college, Pulu, comes to visit him and they head out for a night on the town, where Apu drunkenly tells Pulu the plot of his novel…
"A village boy… The boy comes to the city… He'll study. He's ambitious… Through his education and struggles, we watch as he sheds his old superstitions and world views. He questions everything and takes nothing on trust. Yet he has imagination and sensitivity. Little things move him and bring him joy. Perhaps he has greatness in him, the ability to create, but… He does nothing great. He remains poor, in want. But he never turns away from life. He doesn't run away. He wants to live. He says living itself brings fulfilment and joy…"
If that monologue struck a chord with you the same way it did with me, then it shouldn't be difficult to see why I think this one is the best of the trilogy. But it doesn't just stop at being a low-key coming-of-age drama. The plot thickens.
Pulu invites Apu to his cousin's wedding. The cousin, Aparna, resides with a rich family, in the lap of luxury, living the life of a princess. Everything's all set for her wedding, but when the bridegroom arrives, he suffers a nervous breakdown from sitting in the sun too long, and Aparna's mother refuses to let him marry her daughter. The father is devastated, as this is his daughter's last chance to marry before the auspicious hour passes (whatever that means). So, at the last minute, the family devises to have Apu marry Aparna.
"What is this? Some kind of play or novel? You'd stick me in the groom's seat just like that? Are you still in the Dark Ages?"
The two are married, and Apu must take his new bride back to his home, the ratty, little apartment, where the pampered rich girl now has to do all the household chores, while her husband stands around, playing his stupid flute. You can think of it sort of like The Graduate, if the wedding happened at the end of the first act, and the rest is the couple living with the consequences of their hasty decisions and trying to make peace with it.
Out of all the films in the Apu Trilogy, this final entry is the one that truly resonated with me, and the only one I had any real desire to revisit. It's the most cinematic of the three, in both its story and visuals.
I suppose some may find the plot too preposterous compared to the more realistic tone of the earlier films, but I found it much more engaging. The earlier films were about the hardships and misfortunes of a lower-class family, while this last film is about the miracles that come out of the blue. I do believe these sorts of things happen all the time.
Apu tries his best to keep his head up high, in the face of all the misery he's been through, including the grief of losing an absurd number of his family members over the course of the trilogy. The Grim Reaper swoops into his life like a slasher villain, and he doesn't let it get him down.
Satyajit Ray also demonstrates his mastery of film language, letting the visuals tell the story. I remember being particularly impressed by a shot of a baby in a hanging crib, a simple shot that said a lot about where the character of Apu was at that point, literally and figuratively.
The cinematography by Subrata Mitra is much sharper and more fluid than in the other Apu films, and the music by Ravi Shankar does well to accentuate the mood of each scene. It isn’t overbearing like most orchestral film scores of the time.
While the other films may give you a bit more insight into the character of Apu, and there is an attempt to bring the trilogy full circle here, you do not have to see the other films in order to be impacted by Apu's story in this final chapter. This was a time when every film was expected to stand on its own, and not require the audience to do homework. If you only see one of the Apu films, see Apur Sansar.
